


Languages of love

by Griffinous56



Category: Senyuu. (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Married Life, Oh god this's too cheesy, Post F5? Post F5, This's basically consist of Albatross doting on each other, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:13:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28633065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Griffinous56/pseuds/Griffinous56
Summary: Of all the habits of each other only they know well.Or in which both of them at some points look back and are reminded of how much they love the other person.
Relationships: Alba Frühling/Ross | Creasion
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Languages of love

**Author's Note:**

> This's too cheesy it's almost OOC forgive me

Alba does sing in the shower. It’s a known fact among their peers. The one thing others don’t know as much as Sion is that Alba upheld that ritual as religiously as a faithful follower of God, not that either of them believes in God anyway. Alba sings whenever he takes a shower, at seven o’clock sharp when he prepares to go to work and then approximately seventeenth o’clock when he’s back home. The moment he switches the shower on, Alba becomes the paragon of music, singing tunes from the lyrics of almost every song they ever aired on TV. And he’s not even that good of a singer, mind you. He sings sloppily and out of tune, with the crescendo and decrescendo that never could hit right. Alba’s vocal choir allows him to hit the highest pitching ear preaching volume ever, booming from the bathroom and grating Sion ears he swears he almost bleed once or twice. 

In short, Alba Frulhing’s singing is so horrible it has no rights to even exist.

What makes it worse is that he _does_ carries his singing even when he’s out of the bathroom - fresh out in all his naked glory with still dripping hair, damped bare feet on plush carpeting and a towel still in his hands - which usually rewards Alba a pillow in the face and an order to sleep on the sofa. Complaints immediately shut down by an irritate ex-hero who’s only trying to enjoy his souffle in peace. That habit of his had been amusing during the very first year when they were traveling around the continent, but it quickly lost its charm when soldier Ross realized how he would never find a way to make Alba permanently shut up, the physical and mental abuses could only last him for so long. Blessed Rchi for never had to endure that torment when they camped out in the wilderness, leaving him the only victim to it whenever they booked an inn.

Even years later into their marriage, even after several threats, poisonous glarings and cold nights on the sofa, Alba cheerfully keeps this annoying habit of his. This annoying, grating habit, a violation of this peaceful world. But the most astonishing is…

Is that, even down into years of marriage, Sion has developed an immune system to Alba’s horrible singing. Appreciate it, even, growing accustom to Alba’s performances for what they are. Because there’s almost nothing more telling about Alba’s mood than his singing. Chirpy and uplifting tunes and funky beats from those pop songs Sion could never grasp for when he’s happy. Slow, melancholy tunes from one or two traditional songs when he’s just content with what he has. Purposely loud rock songs when he’s frustrated at something that always results in him being chased back to his mother’s house for a night or two. Or a cheesy, soppy song that bleeds sugary sweet whenever he gets romantic and a practical embarrassment in general; sometimes, Alba successes at seducing Sion with just _that_ , to his bewilderment, dragging Sion with him under the cold shower and getting his clothing wet, the aftermath always leaves Alba looks like a cat just has his canary. Never fail to gain him an uppercut some Sion.

The thing is, Alba Fruhling’s singing is horrible and has no right to even exist, yet Sion has grown mellow to the abomination, liking it even. Not that he would ever admit it with himself. No, Alba’s singing never gets better over the years, only worsen as the high pitch of a child’s voice got replaced by the low rumbling of a man. Sion would have been fine with it, really, if not for the discovery that every single Albas in the multiverse they managed to meet also have this annoying habit too. Yes, even that one from the Sleepiez, to almost everyone but Sion’s horrifying realization.

And the most horrifying thing is?

Every Sions of those respective Albas had also grown a tolerance to it too, accepting that one annoying habit of Alba like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re frowning.”

Lifting an eyebrow, Sion looks up from his book to glance at an Alba who’s just fresh out of his bath. He’s sitting on the edge of their bed, languishingly drying his hair with the towel with a bear face sewed onto it, Sion almost snorts. At least he has ceased his singing for now. “How observant of you, Hero, observing someone’s face when entirely naked yourself. Should I start to flee before you decide to sexually harass me, Hero?”

“Where did you even get that from!?”

“There’s no shortage of marriage broken by that, Hero,” Replies Sion, voice dry and even like he’s discussing the weather. 

Sion watches, as Alba opens and closes his mouth as he deciding what retort he should make, Sion huffs and grins. “Calm down Hero. I’m joking.”

“Really? Thanks-.”

“I just feel disgusted at your singing and your face I want to trip you up, that’s all.”

“I… don’t know whether or not should I feel bad about that.” 

Huh, Alba doesn’t take the bait for a skit. Disappointing.

“Besides, I’m not frowning. I’m thinking of what to bring to the launch ceremony of Crea’s restaurant tomorrow.”

Alba’s eyes brighten at that. “Crea-kun is going to open his restaurant tomorrow?”

“Of course, Hero. You didn’t know that?” Sion clicks his tongue. “What a terrible friend you are. He just announced it this afternoon.”

“How could I know about something like that on such short notice!”

Amused, Sion grins at the sputtering hero and said: “But aren’t you suppose to know about everything, o Legendary Hero whose power is so strong nothing should ever escape his watchful eyes?”

“You-! That was a long time ago, stop it!”

Sion laughs. Alba pouts, diving forward to press his still soaked wet body to Sion, wetting his clothes in a feeble attempt at shutting him up. A cold hand sneaks into his shirt collar and presses persistently at a spot under his nap. That old school trip could never work on Sion, but at least Alba tries and Sion rewards his enthusiasm with a right hook when Alba’s hands wandering down his sides, teasing a little too much to not know what he’s doing. Just a broken rib is nothing to his Hero anyway.

So he huffs, blowing at the few strains of Alba’s auburn hair, and says: “Come with me tomorrow."

“I can’t. I've got some works to do,” Alba’s voice gets strained when Sion digs his elbow into the very crack he just created. “You’re not being fair.”

“Life’s never fair, Hero. And I don’t have any work tomorrow!”

“Your point!?”

Still, the head researcher sighs in defeat, resting his forehead against Sion’s. “You’re a terrible influence on me.”

“I thought we’ve established that, after all these years.”

Sion can feel Alba’s smile before even seeing it. “I know.”

Alba never uses cologne, neither of them do, so all the scent Sion can smell right now is simply Albas, of the shampoo his mother gifted and the coarse signature red and black cloth he insists on keeping. Sion finds himself welcoming it, sinking into the familiar warmth, feeling how his eyelids are drooping when Alba continues to hum that ridiculous song again.


End file.
